The Washer from Dutch Hell

By Julia Moore

I walked in the house on August eighteenth
Walls surrounded me, white, brown, green
I peered into the bathroom and to my dismay
I found a brown washer on its way to decay

Now it wasn’t just broken, it was dirty as hell And
don’t even get me started on the smell Here follows the terrible story, how it all unfolds From the filth within to the broken door

Caked with dirt, teeming with mold, squiggly black hairs stuck to its door the door that wouldn’t open
that truly wouldn’t budge
A big black door
with a big black grudge

I called the repairman who took his grand time coming to fix it
and its green foamy grime
Seven days later
he arrived with his tools
ready to make my washer good as new

Finally at last armed with bleach and a sponge
I was ready to scrub it to glam from grunge
I opened the door and cleaned it well
This story was taking a turn from shitty to swell

But I spoke too soon
You see,
I threw my entire load of clothes
into the washer, there it goes
I turned the thing on
life seemed good
Until I opened the door
and there it stood
Broken in my hands once again
the door had snapped
at my excited hands

I pressed my hand up to the door
Just inches between
me and my clothes that had just been cleaned
They were glistening, bright
Just ready to be worn
Instead they remained trapped
looking forlorn

I called the repairman once again
Hoping that he could put an end

To this hellish nightmare in my life
To this door that kept me up at night

The repairman arrived just the next day
With a brand new door and a scolding “nee”
Finally, this door could be the one
That unlocked my clothes revealed the sun
This door was a new beginning for me
It would give my clothes life, set them free

Ten minutes later the repairman was done
New door, new life, I could see the sun
As a clean lavender smell arose
I jumped for joy and embraced my clothes

I closed the washer back up again
With a new load of wash and a clear head
When it was finished I grasped the handle again
This time it worked fine, my friends

This story is not too unfamiliar I imagine
For other internationals renting in this fashion Whether it’s a broken washer or a moldy shower
Or a fridge that smells like the milk’s gone sour
Just close your eyes, take a deep breath,
Buy some bleach, and drink to your death